Out of Darkness into Nothing
by jarec
Summary: the Awakening of a Hollow One and not an irritating one either!
1. Chapter 1

Out of Darkness into Nothing

Author's note: This story is about the Awakening of a Hollow One mage named Ian Frost. All my information about the Hollow Ones comes from the e-book of thatname on Nocturnis d o t n e t. It also represents my attempt to flesh out a very interesting and overlooked faction in Mage. It won'te be long, maybe two three chapters.

Ian had always had a pretty life. Father dead at eight of what the police called "self-inflicted gunshot wound" and what the other kids at school called "blowing his brains out". Mother an abusive alcoholic. Working his way through Community College as a gravedigger. Now stuck in a dead end job as cashier at an antique book store. All of which drove him to embrace the occult. He wasn't stupid; he knew that deep down this was his subconscious looking for some way out. He didn't much care; his life was bascially meaningless, so why not let his subconcious try? It might even find an escape. Wouldn't THAT be great…

In the course of his 'hobbies' he made friends. This was a rarity for him, since his high intelligence and profoundly bleak worldview didn't exactly make him mister popularity. On the whole, he was pretty sure he liked it. Sure, it meant that people might call on you at awkward times, but at the same time, it meant that there were people who actually gave a damn about him. Together, they perused old, 19th century books of the occult. They held seances every other night, and went clubbing the rest of the week.

There was Monique DuMars, the artist. She was deep into neo-nihilistic abstract-representationalism-or something like that, Ian didn't really pay that much attention to her lectures on art, since it all looked pretty much the sane to him. She was tall, black, and from a rich family, really old New Orleans types. But she wasn't stuck up or anything, and she tended to bankroll their fun. Which was cool. They had actually been the start of the group. They'd met in the store he worked at, when she had come looking for a book on Victorian Hellfire societies. A lengthy discussian had ensued, and two nights later they were holding a séance for her long-ago vanished great aunt Veronique.

Peter had been the next to join their group. He was the sort of person Ian felt was best taken in small doses. VERY small doses. He was a total downer, going on about the 'total meaninglessness of life' all the damn time. Ian agreed life was pretty pointless, but even he could let it go once in a while. Plus, he was a Goth Poseur. Ian divided Goths into 2 groups; Real Ones and Posers. Real Goths viewed it as just a part of their lives. They were Goths in the same way that other people were Masons, or Republicans, or Alcoholics. Their interest in the lifestyle tended to be pretty permanent, so Ian had to give them respect for their convictions. The Posers on the other hand, wanted you to believe they were Goths period. That it was the be-all and end-all of their lives. Then, in a few years, they moved on to a different trend. The Posers sickened Ian, just another bunch of dimwits who were trying to find meaning in a new fashion line.

That being said, Peter could occassionally forget his angst long enough to be a cool gguy. He knew tons about music and hadd a terrific sense of dry humor. Watching bad movies with Peter was great at times like those, he'd rip the bad scripts to pieces with gags that put Mystery Science Theater to shame. He was tall and good-looking which meant that at any social gathering he tended to be the center of attention; thus relieving Ian of the burden of interacting with strangers. Ian looked forward to the day that Peter dropped the Goth stuff and could be like that more often.

At the opposite end, there was Crystal Evans. Crystal's parents had apparently not noticed that the sixties weere over. They'd filled the girls head with all kinds of hippy-dippy sunshine crap, and provided her with a loving, functional family. In short, they'd ruined her. When they'd met at a New Age Covnvention (She was looking for healing crystals and spirit stones, he was looking to use the bathroom), she'd been convinced that the world was a wonderful place filled with wonderfully unique people all of whom were basically good. About five minutes into the conversation Ian had asked her how she survived in the world. She'd laughed.

She came to the group because she wanted to know about Ian's "world-view"; his deep rooted cynicism and black humor were alien to her. But she DID know a lot about contacting spirits, she didn't cause a lot of problems, plus she could usually score some good weed, so the red-headed blue eyed girl became part of their circle.

When it was just the two of them, Ian and Crystal spent their time talking, mainly about what the world was. Unsurprisingly, Ian viewed the world as a cold, heartless, chaotic place where you basically just served out you life until death claimed you. Crystal saw it as a place of unlimited oppurtunity and freedom, if you opened yourself to Her (she always described the world as a woman- Ian agreed to the extent that he thought the world was a bitch). They also talked music, movies, politics and even history, all without agreeing on a damned thing.

Last but not least ws Robert. Robert was…odd. For one thing no one knew how old he was. HE looked about twenty seven, twenty eight, but you always got the sense that he was much much older than that. He knew a lot of stuff too, and was able to point out their mistakes in the rituals without even glancing at the book. More than that though, he had no contact with anyone but Ian when they weren't doing some spell. He was a large man, six foot two and over two hundred pounds (most of it fat). He never spoke much, and didn't seem to ge talong with Crystal.

A strange bunch of people, yes. But not bizzarre.

Hardly the sort of group you expect to be around when your entire view of the universe changes.

End ch.1

Yes faithful reader Veronique DuMars, of the Magnificent Seven. This is not the start of a metaplot, just a shining example that it is, in fact, a small world after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The biggest night of Ian's life began quite normally, at least for him. He and the Circle (as they called themselves) had decided to hold a séance. Even before they started Ian felt a little strange. Unusually confident and optimistic, he was strangely certain that tonight's ceremony would work. The ritual came from a very old tract written by a Victorian age Occultist named Baron Von Raddiz. Unlike most such rites it made did not claim to summon specific ghosts, or even that it would summon a HUMAN spirit at all. Rather it promised to 'open a doore way into ye mysterious worlde of spirits' and that it would attract SOMETHING. The modesty of the promise made the ritual sound more legit; most spells would promise to conjure anyone you asked for, this one just promised you a chance to talk to someone or something. For another, according to the book the tract was in, Von Raddiz hadn't been selling his pamphlet; he'd been giving it away "in an attempt to raise the spiritual consciousness of his peers". The way Ian saw it, either the good baron was really on to something, or he was out of his fucking mind.

Either way, it would be a good night. Everyone had brought something to help the party along. Monique had brought a collection of music from New Orleans voodoo culture. Ian thought that stuff was a little stupid, but the music had a kick ass rhythm. Peter had brought a case of beer; no matter how Goth he tried to be Peter wouldn't change his drinking habits. Life might be bleak and dark, he said, but he could take it so long as there was beer. Crystal brought a bag of reefer fresh from her commune's garden. Ian had a bottle of vodka; real Russian stuff too, pure as Crystal. Robert brought a bottle of absinthe, which impressed Ian since the licorice-tasting liquor was illegal. Ian figured that this way, even f things didn't work out with the spirit world, they could get so blasted they wouldn't care.

They came together at Ian's apartment at eleven thirty. Ian's place wasn't the nicest among them (he referred to it as The Pit) nor was it the closest. However both Robert and Crystal said that it was teeming with spirit energy; not the whole building, just his place. This didn't bother Ian, he figured that his life was shitty enough that ghostly roommates were the LEAST of his worries. Besides, if life after death was as unpleasant as the life before, he figured the poor bastards could use a hangout.

At midnight they began the ritual. Ian drew a circle on the floor, using a mix of powdered bones and ashes, then made a series of intricate symbols around it. They set up a table in the middle and began the rite. They read out the spell and joined hands and chanted as they waited for something to make contact.

They didn't wait long.

About thirty seconds after the spell was read, the room began to shake. Gently at first but soon the shaking was as violent as an earthquake. Books fell off the shelves, cups fell from his battered and stained coffee table along with his worn-out TV. Off in the bathroom, Ian heard first the sound of his only mirror shattering and then the sound of his toilet exploding (a shattering sound as the ceramic bowl burst, followed by a huge gout of water). Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

"I can't believe it" Robert yelled, sounding more excited than afraid "This is incredible! I've never heard of a rite calling a spirit this powerful the first time!"

"Man are you nuts" Peter said, a great deal more afraid than excited "that wasn't no spirit. That was an-an-an EARTHQUAKE!" He yelled the last word as though he was desperately trying to convince himself

Then they heard a voice. Or not heard. It was more like they REMEMBERED hearing it a half-second after it had stopped speaking. The voice was strong, booming, at its words his window exploded outwards, and the liquor bottles followed suite.

AHHH, GREETINGS IAN CLANCEY FROST. LONG HAVE I WAITED FOR YOU TO CONTACT ME. AND GREETINGS TO ALL THE REST OF YOU, MY CHILDREN.

At this, Peter and Monique leapt out of their chairs. "Fuck this" Monique shrieked, clearly well over the edge of panic "I'm out!"

Crystal, still seated, still holding Ian's hand called out "wait! The ritual isn't done. Let's hear what the spirit has to say before…"

"You fuckin' heard what that thing had to say" Peter yelled, fumbling with the door "its been waiting for Ian. I say let it have 'im, and the rest of us get the fuck OUT!"

"Gee thanks Pete, I love you too" Ian said. It was strange but he felt totally unafraid. He was if anything, angry. For one things otwo of his only friends had just demonstrated a willingness to abandon him to save their asses. Second his apartment was totally ruined- or rather it was even more ruined than it had been before. And lastly, with all this noise, someone had probably complained to the cops, which meant ANOTHER citation for disturbing the peace. Furthermore, he didn't feel the same as he had a few minutes ago. The whole universe seemed…darker. Emptier. Worse, if that was possible.

"Fuck you mr.Gloom-and-Doom I WANT TO LIVE!" Peter screamed.

"Why Peter" Robert said, his voice dripping with sarcasm "I thought you hated life? That it was..oh what was it now.. 'a long dark tunnel with no light at the end'?" the huge voice chuckled, causing things to shake gently once again.

"FUCK YOU!" Peter shrieked, terrified. He finally managed to undo the locks on the door and he and Monique vanished into the night.

GOOD RIDDANCE the voice said. There seemed to be no change in volume, but there was a sense that it was speaking under Its breath

"Uh-huh" Ian said "I guess so. Now, whoever the fuck you are, I got some questions, and you better damn well have the answers"

"IAN!" Crystal said sounding completely scandalized "you can't talk to spirits like that! You have to show respect"

"The fuck I will" Ian retorted, angry but not at her "This thing's trashed my place, pissed off my neighbours and worst of all wrecked my booze and my TV! The apartment's no loss but my life's too crappy to get by without a stiff drink and TV! So, me-laddo, lets have some answers. Who are you? Why have you been waiting for me? Why are we your children? Who's paying to get my crap fixed?"

I AM THE SPIRIT OF THE CITY. I AM THE COLLECTIVE SOUL OF EVERY BUILDING, BUSINESS, CITIZEN, AND VEHICLE THAT EXISTS WITHIN MY LIMITS.

"Oookaayy" Ian drawled "and can you prove ANY of this?"

"IAN!" Robert and Crystal warned together

Another titanic chuckle shook the room . ALWAYS A DOUBTER, EH IAN? VERY WELL, LOOK OUT THE WINDOW.

As one, the three moved to the now-ruined window. They looked out over the city, Montreal, in all her glory. A million lights winked out. The building next door suddenly went dark, which was odd because it was a police station. Suddenly the lights in some windows came on. First they formed an I, then an A, then a very small N. Ian.

SATISFIED?

"Yeah, I guess. Ok, that's one question down. Now what about the rest?"

SIT DOWN IAN, AND HERE ME WELL. I AM SICK. THOSE WHO DWELL WITHIN ME OFTEN HURT ME WITHOUT KNOWING, AND THIS IS WHY THINGS WITHIN ME ARE NOT AS THEY SHOULD BE. CRIMINALS AND CORPORATIONS HARM MY CITIZENS, WHO ARE MY LIFES BLOOD. CORRUPT OFFICIALS LEECH MY STRENGTH. ENVIRONMENTALISTS SEEK TO TEAR OUT MY HEART AND REPLACE IT WITH A FOREST. THINGS ARE NOT RIGHT. SINCE YOU WERE BORN YOU KNEW THIS.

"Did I now?" Ian said, sarcastic

HAVE YOU NOT ALWAYS FELT THAT LIFE IN THE CITY WAS NOT THE WAY IT SHOULD BE? THAT THINGS WITHIN WERE JUST NOT RIGHT?

"Doesn't prove a damn thing" Ian said "Whole world's gone to hell, not just you"

PERHAPS. BUT YOU CAN HELP ME. YOU HEAR MY VOICE, AND CAN WIELD THE MYSTIC POWERS OF THE UNIVERSE.

"Mystic powers?" Ian scoffed "You sound like Crystal, trying to tell me the worlds a happy magical place. It ain't.Even if it were, I sure as hell don't have magic powers"

THEN HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THE FACT THAT YOU ARE CURRENTLY SPEAKING TO THE SPIRIT OF MONTREAL?

"Hmm. Good point. So, maybe I can hear you but that damn sure don't mean I can help you. And even if I could, why should I? Like I said, whole world's going to pieces, why should I turn into some superhero to save one city?"

YOU CAN LEARN THE REST OF YOUR ABILITIES FROM EITHER OF YOUR COMPANIONS HERE. AS FOR WHY YOU SHOULD, LET US SIMPLY SAY THAT ALL BANKS AND UTILITIES ARE PART OF ME TOO. I TAKE CARE OF MY OWN. THINK ON THESE THINGS, IAN. WHEN YOU HAVE AN ANSWER, SUMMON ME AGAIN.

There was no change noticeable in the room, yet noone doubted that the City was gone.

End chapter 2

this is how a living city would view attempts to increase the Green Space (parks and forests and such)


End file.
